


A Species Of Monsters

by GothMoth



Series: May's Phantastical Callings [21]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Burning, Character Death, Drowning, Electrocution, Gen, Gore, Injury, Major Character Injury, Mass Death, Massacre, Murder, Protests, Riots, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth
Summary: Everyone’s capable of it, it’s just a matter of what will make someone willing to do it.





	A Species Of Monsters

Danny groans, cupping his hands over his mouth as he coughs. Hacking up more of his unique ectoplasm, while his mom clutches onto his arm. If he had the strength for it he’d beg them to not take him to the hospital. It’s not like they can help him, but it would seem, neither can anyone else. 

Maybe, with how used to Amity’s shit the local hospital was, they’d actually be able to figure out what was wrong with him. Danny just wishes he’d gotten through the ghost portal, but whatever was messing him up was too aggressive. And the only warning he’d had was Ember screaming and fucking dissolving in front of him. He knew the only reason he was still kicking at all, was his human half. At least he’d managed to throw in a warning on paper to stay the hell away. That there was something deadly here. 

He wishes he could hear whatever his mom was saying, but his ears were overflowing with ectoplasm. It was always hard to hear underwater, and ectoplasm was so much thicker. He figures out what she was trying to say as a nurse grabs at him, he can only tell by the texture of her scrubs but the touch feels like it’s tearing away his skin. Attempting to scream just makes him cough up more ectoplasm, the only good thing about this was that it wasn’t blue, wasn’t from his core. He could survive any amount of ectoplasm loss, so long as his core remained. 

He’s glad the touching stops and can tell by the changing brightness he’s being wheeled under lights. No doubt to emergency. He wishes he could see if anyone else was here, if any were having the reaction he currently was. The ectoplasm leaking from his eyes making everything a green blurry mess and stinging at them. He knew plenty of people had ectoplasm in their systems, he wanted, no needed, to make sure they were ok. No one else was as durable as him.

Normally, he’d assume the acidic sickly sweet smell of ectoplasm meant there were others, but he knows that smell is from his own. Wishing he could smell properly, to at least tell where in all it was coming from, but his nose was stuffed full of leaking ectoplasm. 

Feeling the bed or cart, whatever it was, come to a stop. Hands touching at his face, fingertips and toes. He must be bleeding from there too, though he appreciates the new info, he really wants them to stop touching. Cough violently from futile voiceless screaming again. Not having his voice was the worst damning thing, it was his strongest power, his fail-safe. Yet he couldn’t form a word or scream, none the less wail. 

Feeling his clothing being cut away didn’t exactly make him feel any less vulnerable, he knew they were just doing their jobs though. 

Danny’s not sure what to make of the muffled crashing sounds he only barely manages to hear. But he decides it’s bad news, as hands grab him harshly. His body screaming with pain and heart sinking as he recognises the texture of a suit, followed by clamps around his arms and torso. 

His fear and slowly bubbling anger, growing as he makes out the sounds of a helicopter. 

Jerking his head around as something is sprayed into his face, he’d be happy for the pain-numbing or his senses clearing up some, if it wasn’t for the two men in white suits. If it wasn’t for the words he can fuzzily read on some document. These bastards, they’d been fucking chemtrailing an anti-ecto bioweapon over his city. Now officially pissed off, who knows how many humans or ghosts they could have hurt or destroyed. But these bastards didn’t care, he knew they didn’t.

Attempting to snap insults at them only results in more coughing, voice still pooched. It also distracts him enough for them to clamp a muzzle on him. Glaring as hard as he can as he blinks away his still slightly leaking ectoplasm, while they aggressively taser him into unconsciousness. 

Danny knows he’s in human form for sure before even opening his eyes, he’s got no clue what form he was in before. But regardless, he can tell through his slightly cracked open eye that he’s lock in some containment cell. Meaning he was still with the GIW, which meant being human was really really bad. 

A ghost, a regular ghost, they would just keep in suspended animation or, failing that, chains. But being human here, being human and still locked away, still chained. Meant they knew he wasn’t normal, wasn’t the regular. And he already knew what that meant. They’d have to figure out what made the new discovery tick; and they wouldn’t care if it hurt. 

—back in Amity—

The Fenton’s have been arrested for attempting to blow up a government helicopter, they now sit staring at the broadcasting news about their son, about Phantom. While hearing what sounded like riots outside, both jerking as the back of their holding cell explodes. 

Spinning around to see a very pissed off Sam, ectoplasm streaked down her face and neck, she doesn’t even say anything to them, but her throwing weapons at them is all the communication needed. Stepping out over the rubble, they’re flat out stunned to see her scream and charge at the GIW police force. Barely wasting a second before joining her, though their battle cries are mixed with tears. 

Tucker knows his morals have to be a bit butchered and that his friend would scream at him not to do this, but he doesn’t damn well care. They’d gone too far this time, hurt too many people; the ectoplasm smeared on nearly everyone was proof of that. What the hell did these idiots think would happen to a town where everything and everyone was ectocontaminated? Tucker doesn’t even waste words on the white-suited man as he shoots him in the head. 

Sam, as opposed to violence as she sometimes is, finds pain and anger one hell of a morals inhibiting drug. She doesn’t care that the men behind her are probably dead, or that the car she just blew up probably wasn’t empty. It was their damn fault, they’re just reaping what they fucking sowed. 

And it’s not like she’s even angry over her own pain, it’s Danny’s lost secret and them daring to touch him that’s infuriating her. All his hard work, all their hard work, brought to a painful end because of biased, bigoted, anti-ghost, moronic, white suit-wearing scum. And they couldn’t just leave it at that, no, they had take him away. Take him away from his home, his lair, his humans; doing who knows what to him. 

Screaming her throat raw in anger as she shoves a riot shield clean threw some scums throat, decapitating him. 

On the worldwide news, the GIW try to blame the extreme reaction of Amity on the influence of Phantom. But Phantom has long since gained the favour of most of humanity. All the images being leaked online only made the public more disgusted with the government. Seeing green and red stained people of all ages, clearly infuriated and in pain. 

The images and videos of the teens get people the most, everyone can practically feel the determination and resolution off of them. The desire to protect their town, to protect their hero, without restraint and at any cost. The eventual reveal that it was some scarily tech-savvy teen leaking all this, only served to solidify the general publics opinion. 

Mass petitions and calls for the end of GIW came out in waves. Interviews with agents always turned nasty towards the agents or someone crashed the interview to assault the white-suited man or men. Many of the assailants turning out to be from Amity or nearby.

But the government didn’t often listen to the common man, Vlad knew this. And while he and Daniel may be archenemies, the GIW has no claim to him. And what they did in Amity, they could do anywhere. Vlad couldn’t allow that. So he made phone calls and pulled strings. Joined the fight in the way he could, orchestrating the end of the GIW through a chessboard.

Everyone’s aggression and anger, all their planning and forcing, could only ever work in time; and time was not something Danny had. 

Danny glares through the glass, reading the men’s lips. He refuses to show shock or any reaction to it though. Can’t afford for them to know just how much of a sneaky bastard he is. Even when his suspicions are confirmed, they know, they know what he is. 

They’re calling him a fusion, which isn’t exactly wrong and Danny wouldn’t even consider giving them any kind of information. Not even the true name or nature of what he is. Let them call him a fusion, they can’t taint the halfa name to him that way. 

What throws him a bit is that their goal seems to be, undoing the fusion. Fucking mouthing off about “saving” the human, how they’re after the ghost; how the ghost must be manipulating, controlling, corrupting, the human boy inside. 

Sometimes he’s amazed by the cruelty of humans and the lengths they’ll go to believe their lies, while two agents burn at his skin with various anti-ecto tools. Taking their samples, writing their stupid results and behaving like he’s not even there; before moving on. 

He’s not ever sure what attempting to drown him is going to fucking do, and Danny's officially doubting that they want the human half actually alive. They probably just want the corpse at this point, see how it could have possibly “fused” with a ghost. 

Danny can’t really help trying to get his head away from the dripping water, this hardly even counts as a damn experiment; it’s just cruelty for cruelties sake. But them coming in and pouring scalding water on various parts of him was not what he was asking for. 

He almost can’t believe it as he catches one groan about not being to cut off digits or limbs, since they apparently don’t want to damage the human boy permanently. 

Seeing electrical equipment come out makes his stomach drop though. Especially when it’s clear they don’t even give the slightest damn about any pain. Piercing his skin with metal rods and digging in with sharp clamps. Danny has to push his head into the tile and hiss, trying his damnedest to bare it through the uncontrollable twitching muscle spasms. 

He can feel his muscles tearing off bone as they climb the volts higher, accompanied by his insides feeling like they’re being melted or fried, he can’t tell which is more accurate. At least he knows he can survive this and he does feel a bit vindicated as he manages to jab one of them with a rod sticking out of his shoulder. Managing to head butt the man before he’s carried away. 

Danny doesn’t really care that he doesn’t see the man again, he can’t even really think about what that means as they switch over to more unique electrical tools. Even going so far as to pry open his mouth and stick a lightning rod and ball in. The sheer force of it rattles a few of Danny’s teeth lose and out. 

Glaring at the retreating men, letting them close the glass cell before spitting one of the teeth as hard as he can at them, shattering the glass. Spitting another at them as he watches them flee out, one guy being dragged. 

Leaning his face on the tiled floor and panting, not really getting any reprieve as the men decide to continue their experimenting from afar; he can’t say he likes the pleased or thoughtful looks on their faces. Though he can’t say for sure if that’s the pain making them look like that, or if what he’s seeing is genuine. 

The GIW can’t help but marvel at their little screens, thoroughly amazed at how the things DNA reacts so violently to electrocution. Watching as bits splitter apart, separating but reforming quickly. The head agent wastes no time in requesting for the strongest electrical anything out there. The faster the better, as they’ve all heard the news of what’s happening. Of how they’re being opposed, when they shouldn’t be. They were only doing what was right! What was just! They were saving everyone and the world from ecto scum and Phantom was the worst of them. Him fusing himself to a child was proof of that. 

Most of the men smile wide at the massive lightning generator, before wheeling it in almost aggressively. 

Danny heaves his chest up, feeling dried blood and ectoplasm flake off him. Glaring at the massive thing and frankly hoping they just all accidentally fry themselves. He has a gut feeling his home, his lair, was under siege. That people were hurt, possibly dead. These scum didn’t care about hurting anyone and he just simply doesn’t believe they aren’t capable or unwilling to kill now. He couldn’t protect his people, his town, he couldn’t even protect himself, but he will, even if he has to burn or drown or fry these white-suited abominations to do it. 

Part of him nags at him that’s wrong, that his obsession is getting corrupted. But that part’s pretty damn quiet, getting more so; as he bares his teeth at these monsters as they smirk at him.

He slams his head hard enough into the tile to crack it, to dent it, as a bolt slams into him. The boiling feeling returning full force, yet so much worse. Hardly even being given the chance to really understand what it feels like, as more bolts of lightning shoot through him. 

Twitching from his spot on the ground, he still forces an aggressive fuck-you smile at the annoyed and confused looking agents. He refuses to let that cocky smile waver as they bring in three more and arrange them around him. He tries to force himself up, to show defiance, but gets slammed by more lightning before he manages to do so. 

He can see all the harsh burn marks of entry and exit wounds, actually see the bolts spearing through him, sparks and tail-ends of bolts shooting out all over his skin. The melting feels like it’s sleeping out his skin, like it’s boiling off his skin in waves; but the vibrating’s worse. Like someone just shoved his every partial and thought inside an oversized too loud speaker filled with needles and nails. Filled with so many that every single piece of him was getting stabbed no less than twenty times a second. 

He can’t even close his eyes as he can tell something is very very wrong. With the force of the need to scream shattering his jaw bone against the muzzle, which snaps apart its self.

He can hear the whine of the machines powering down as he, as part of him, slumps forwards on the ground. Blinking slowly and blearily at the black and white half of himself still in binds, screaming and wailing his head off. But this Danny, human Danny he guesses, doesn’t have the energy for that. Feeling utterly weak and vehemently hating it, before passing out. 

Danny wails till he feels his ectoplasm being on the verge of giving out and anti-ecto chains snapping on him. Most piecing his jumpsuit and burning holes in his body, before another muzzle is yanked on aggressively. But he can see he’s done damage, even if moving is beyond hard now. Watching almost giddy with pain, with mental and physical hurt, as bits of the ceiling break away and fall down; as the containments ceiling shatters and rains down anti-ecto glass on him and the scum around him. He doesn’t care that it cuts and burns him, he just wants even one of them to get their eyes stabbed out. Judging by the shouting and scream, someone indeed does; that or worse. Danny’s alright with worse right now, as the white beasts zap at him until he passes out. 

Danny Fenton walks jerkily into the room, the room where he knows his other half is being kept. Glaring at the backs of the agents' heads, wanting nothing more that to ram their damn stun batons into their ears. But he’ll wait, he has to get his other half, his strong half. Fenton’s the hero’s hero, the spy, the sleeper cell, the wolves sheep clothing; but otherwise, he was just a boy. 

Though he couldn’t help but make his displeasure know, staining the hell out of whatever he could with whatever he could. Especially if it was white and largely done with his own blood. He knew he was flat out disturbing them, not to mention disgusting them. Fucking good, he’d like to do a lot more. 

Danny Phantom blinks slowly at his human half, willing him to, for once in their half-lives, not be rash. Though he knows their eyes equally reflect bloody murder right now. Especially seeing the GIW smirk at him and reading that they’re gloating about “saving” the boy. How Phantom must be so pissed they took his plaything. 

Danny wants to make them the fucking playthings, run them ragged like used and abused discarded child’s dolls. The kind little boys microwave, decapitate or run over. Rub their hair in mud or tear the fucking limbs off. The ragged pain ripping through him doesn’t exactly help to curb these thoughts or desires. Even if he knows they’re wrong, he just doesn’t really care. 

Twitching and snapping his head over as he feels and smells an unforgettable thing. The vapour of blood blossoms, before he’s quickly jumped at and bound in them. Thorns tearing apart his suit and ectoplasm easily, barely able to register through the pain that his other half appears to have just fucking lost it. 

Danny Fenton only gapes for a second as his other half is wrapped in those horrid fucking flowers, as he catches a smirk from one of the agents and a thumbs up in Danny Fenton’s direction from another. Weak be damned, restraint be damn, he's standing with dead-men. 

Launching at the one who had the fucking audacity to give him a thumbs up, slamming his head into the ground hard enough to audibly shatter his skull. Taking his stun baton and impaling the one who smirked, and turning it on max before the others can even draw their weapons. Sliding away to grab another’s ankle and straight up slamming him into the ground, snapping his neck and spine in multiple spots. 

He’d forgotten, that due to his lifestyle, even when limited to human, he was overwhelmingly strong. 

He can see the two agents, in with his other half, rushing over as he scrapes one beasts face across the wall, shredding it to bits and leaving a trail of grey matter. Throwing a baton and impaling the last inside with him, before the two even get to the doors. He can read that they’re shouting about how they’re helping him, helping everyone, how he was free now. Clearly, he can see the underlining question on their faces, asking why anyone would protect a ghost. The only response he grants them is a deep growl, as he charges straight through the glass doors. 

He tears his fingers through the scums eyes and flings it by the eye sockets hard enough into the other one to crush the things head. Before scrambling up to his other half, yanking and tearing away the thorns, vines, branches and petals. Slicing his hands, arms and face up as he does. Eventually slamming a hand into the sticky goo mess of ectoplasm and hissing. 

The GIW back-up comes rushing in to find multiple mangled corpses and the boy standing up in the, shattered to bits, containment cell, slowly wrapping and weaving a flower crown around his head. Dripping and coated with ectoplasm and wafting off the flowers vapour. They can see specks of red blood peppered in and the rest of him is completely drenched. 

Watching him turn around they don’t even move, they don’t know what to do here. This is a human boy, an apparently psychotic one. What else would explain protecting ectoscum or having this kind of reaction to one being destroyed, as it damn well should be. There wasn’t a protocol for this. 

Danny doesn’t give a damn about their guns, self-preservation and respecting a threat wasn’t something that even existed in him anymore. Grabbing some of the leftover blood blossoms and a sharp bit of glass before charging at them. Throwing the glass at the first bastard to lift its gun, Danny is a damn good shot and he was always more of a thrower than a gun wielder. 

He hardly notices the pain of the bullets as they shoot at him, it hardly even registers compared to what he got on an average day. And faded to nothing compared to what these monsters had done to him already. But he still runs one through with its own gun, kicking the weapon in with his feet as he strangles two others with the vines. 

All the while feeling the nectar, sap and ectoplasm from his little crown of thorns seeping under his skin and his blood cascading down his face. While the blood of beasts splattered at him, he can’t help but smile; giddy with pain, adrenaline and retribution. 

He’s not sure what’s making his veins fill with cold fire, he’s used to a similar feeling from his core; more like cold air though. It could be the rage or just hurt, too much damn hurt. He thinks over-exertion could be an option too, as he can feel he’s twisted his ankle as he shoves a foot through white scum stomach. He knows the guys already dead, but he can’t really stop. He doesn’t even want to, he doesn’t even care, just wanting the mangled thing to get torn apart more. 

But the sound of approaching footsteps halts his motions, snapping himself over to the door, everything hurts again but now that pain is just fuelling him. Memory fresh and the pull to keep up the fight, even if this wasn’t a fight. 

Slamming a monitor through the wall, hitting its target to smash, head crushed, against a wall. Leaping through the hole to ram scissors into one of their eye sockets, only to get promptly riddled with bullets. 

Ah so they came prepared this time, well then, he guesses that’s just fine, that’s ok. He knew, had known, for a long time he couldn’t be a full human. Couldn’t live as one again, too weak, too powerless, too mundane. But he also knew he’d never go down without a fight, never be taken out outside of whatever battlefield he was on. And this one, this one he was waging war on. No sparring match, no banter. Just monsters that had to be removed from the equation. 

So with that he pushes through everything and takes out three more before his body finally gives out. Riddled with holes the boy crowned with thorns jerks and falls. 

The GIW step back horrified as this boy catches his fall with one hand, officially wondering just what the hell they had “saved”. Quickly realising they had indeed taken him out as a glow flickers to life around him. But it’s all wrong, what should be white, was a pale red borderlining on pink. Instead of being soft, fuzzy, and consistent; it waved slightly. Waved like the vapour of blood blossoms. 

None of them really move as the boy stands up, utterly confused by the DP jumpsuit. That ghost was just fused with the boy, like some bastardised possession; wasn’t he? He wasn’t literally the boy’s ghost? Most start to severely doubt their previous conclusions at this point. But they can all tell he’s different, white hair coming off in flames, dark red skin, clawed hands, and crimson eyes. Even his boots have a harsh point to them. 

What really confuses them is the blood blossom thorn crown, that should be hurting him, killing this ghost. But instead it’s, it’s part of him. Adding red lazy vapour flames around the white flame. 

Danny’s not sure what’s new but something is, not just on the outside, but inside there’s a power that wasn’t there before. His ghostly aura itself seems to have a power too it now, he didn’t care much right now. Ectoblasting the closest man and quickly knowing he can do more. Changing around a bit to find he can shoot ectofire, like a flamethrower, grinning cruelly as he remembers one of the beasts shoving a flamethrower down his throat and lighting him up. Grabbing one of the far scum to do the same, with his fist, to it. 

—elsewhere in the world—

The whole world watches in shock, confusion and horror as the report from a helicopter shows the practically obliterated GIW Phantom containment faculty. After the location of which finally got leaked. No one seemed to know what happened, there was no survivors, and while Phantom wasn’t located; the reports of large amounts of ectoplasm, especially pooled inside what looked like it could have been a cell once, made everyone assume the worst. 

Many folks grumbled the GIW deserved it, though none really liked that anyone had died. But everyone hoped Phantom had somehow made it, or would show up again. 

The mood in Amity was a bit more extreme though. Pretty well every surviving member had their hands soaked in blood, even if none had seen Phantom, they didn’t feel like what they had done wasn’t worth it. At seeing the news report many even went out to brutalise what was left of anything GIW or corpses. Bits and pieces were strung up like warnings. 

Eventually taken down when the government released an emergency conference, to announce their dissolving of the GIW. Offering compensation to Amity and young Fenton’s family, seeing this Jack had simply growled and smashed a glass through the tv. He didn’t want what they offered, he wanted his damn son, he wanted his wife’s legs, he wanted his daughter alive. Screw them, screw all of it. 

Tucker honestly felt awful about losing Sam, and he hardly cared about his arm or ear. Though he’s honestly impressed how Valerie came out unscathed. She was nearly more aggressive than Sam had been. 

Staggering a bit as he stands up from the makeshift grave, and nodding solemnly at Valerie. Turning to stalk off but halting, with Valerie walking right past him only to stop and look back at him a foot or so away. 

Tucker takes a step towards the alleyway, where he’s sure he’d caught a glimpse of glowing white. Not even moving as Danny comes into view, very very wrong looking. He’s not even sure this is Danny, if it wasn’t for the lack of a cape he’d think it was Dan. 

Noticing the weird flower crown and quickly recognising the flowers, he tilts his head and taps at his forehead. Watching as Danny flicks his crimson eyes up before shrugging, loose and exaggerated; telling him that this, this really was Danny. Just royally fucked up, but who was he to judge? He had bludgeoned a man to death with his own glasses and pretty well had memorised what it was like to disembowel someone. 

Danny just nods, as Tucker whispers, “dude”, at him. Before his eyes flicker to the grave and he scowls. He can smell it’s hers, and flicking his eyes around he can see others. His gut had been right, and he hated that too. He hated a lot actually, he’s not even sure why he came back here entirely. He knew what he’d find, that he’d hate it. What the beasts did to his town, his lair, his humans, his everything. He wanted to break those white monsters again, but he wasn’t, wouldn’t be, a monster himself. 

So he shoves down that hate and turns his head back towards the living friend, only to spot Valerie as well. Not quite sure what to do as she launches herself at him, meeting him with a strong hug; apparently she didn’t care about his strange look, but she’d never seen Dan. 

Holding his arms out awkwardly for a bit before patting at her back, which seems to be enough for Tucker to shake himself off. Coming up and squeezing his shoulder, “you’re dead aren’t you, fully dead”. 

This gets Valerie to let go of him, he can tell she wants him to say no. Looking between them and deciding that lies were just plain fucking pointless, hiding was pointless. Lifting his hand up he wiggles it back a fourth, before speaking for the first time in months, voice echoing and powerful again, “maybe”. Flicking at his flower thorn crown, “I’m something new”. 

Tucker laughs softly at this, clearly, none of them knew what that even meant but that’s no different than when he became a halfa, “you just can’t be normal, can you?”. Even if he knows Danny’s moral compass has clearly broken, he’d bet all the money he had that Danny’s the one that butchered all those agents and he could read the almost giddy rage and malice in his eyes. But Danny’s loose, almost goofy, smirk meant that either, everything would be ok or that Danny was more than just messed up. 

Turning around and waving for the two to follow him, “come on, won’t take much to get all the townsfolks down to the community hall. They’ve got coffee, beer and yes, horrible milkshakes on tap. The town’s lifted the drinking restrictions and I think you could use to drown yourself in all three”. 

Turning back around when he can hear he’s not being followed, watching as Danny glances down at himself before raising an eyebrow, “dude, no one’s gonna give a shit. Your humans never would, you protective bastard”. 

Danny smirks, knowing his friend’s right. So the two catch up and stalk off to the community centre. While Tucker texts like a madman. 

Danny’s more than a little pissed he can only see or smell just over half his humans. He’d hope some had just fled but he wasn’t quite so optimistic anymore. But that anger is promptly quelled but beaming faces and borderline aggressive levels of hugging. 

Pretty well getting pulled to sit down with everyone, his father being the most pushy. With his mom hugging him from her spot on one of the benches. He doesn’t have to look to know parts of her are missing, but her not seeming to care makes it hard for him too. 

Valerie leans against him as she and Tucker sit down on his other side. And they all do indeed drink a variety of things, everyone saying their peace to him and light-hearted conversations swirl about. Interspaced with silences, Danny’s going to have to adjust for a bit and settle back into his lair, before no one will be able to shut him up again. But he had his town, he had his lair, he had his humans, and he had what he was meant to be; an impossible enigma with a protective obsession. So he’d be fine, so would all of them; sure, it might take some time and any remaining loyal GIW were dead men, but that’s just fine to him. It shouldn’t be, but it is. 

**End.**


End file.
